Hibernation Hiatus
by Heiress7Muzzy
Summary: A penis in a jam jar. Snakes in the fridge. And other stuff too. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Silly fic is silly. Enjoy! (:

Things the bathtub is not for:

1. Temporary and/or permanent storage of any parts of the human anatomy (sterilized or otherwise)

2. Temporary and/or permanent storage of animal, insects or hybrid corpses (sterilized or otherwise)

3. Fermentation of fungi and/or protoctists

4. Vicious piranha (or otherwise potentially harmful sea creatures) to live in

5. Sorting out 243 types of tobacco ash (and subsequently clogging the drain)

6. Planting mild explosives without consultation of one's flatmate (thereby incurring his wrath)

7. Hiding in when avoiding the wrath of one's flatmate

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

You can't stay in the bathtub for the rest of your life. –JW

Watch me. –SH

Come out already, I'm not even mad anymore. –JW

No. –SH

I'll just go open the fridge and let that suspicious-looking appendage defrost, then, shall I? –JW

NO. DO NOT EVEN THINK OF TAMPERING WITH THE NECK, JOHN, OR I WILL HAVE YOURS. –SH

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Sherlock had to come out of hibernation from the bathtub to rescue the neck.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Things the fridge is not for:

1. Temporary and/or permanent storage of corpses (intact or not)

2. Storage of decapitated HEADS (_a _sodding_ HEAD for fuck's sake_)

3. Measuring the coagulation of saliva after death in human mouth cavities

4. Measuring the excretion of bodily fluids (be it urea or ejaculate) from the human male anatomy after death (_a _bloody _PENIS in the jam jar_)

5. Hiding things from one's flatmate (_be thankful guns are acclimated to the cold_)

6. Temporary and/or permanent storage of human appendages (including mangled pieces of flesh vaguely resembling human necks)

7. Keeping live specimens of reptile in –

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Calm down and stop moving, John –SH

HOW THE BLOODY FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO CALM THE SODDING FUCK DOWN WHEN THERE ARE BLOODY SNAKES ON THE LOOSE IN THE FLAT. –JW

Just go to your mind palace, John, I'll take care of the snakes. –SH

Are you still hiding under the covers? –SH

SOD. OFF. –JW

Jonh idhtyka –ssH

Was that what I thought it was? –JW

Sherlock? –JW

Sherlock, you twat, are you alright? –JW

Damn it. –JW

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

John found Sherlock grappling with two boa constrictors on the floor.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Things a flatmate is not for:

1. Catering to your every whim on a daily basis (you insufferable arse)

2. Making you tea every morning, afternoon, night, and every available time in between (the kettle's not that hard to manage, honestly)

3. Making sure you eat enough to keep your health level slightly above that of the average corpse (it's a wonder you're able to function at all, really)

4. Entertainment in the form of belittlement (you absolute twat)

5. Ranting at whenever your overlarge brain needs an outlet (though you _are _brilliant)

6. Collapsing on whenever your meager energy supply is depleted before you make it to bed (and on my bad shoulder every time, too)

7. Rescuing you from getting strangled by snakes you left lying around in the BLOODY FRIDGE, the BLOODY FRIDGE, Sherlock

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

In the sterilized, unnatural whiteness of the hospital, Sherlock opened his eyes.

He saw John at his bedside, studiously writing out a list on a piece of paper.

John held it up so he could read it. Sherlock laughed so much his stomach cramped and his throat rasped (though that could have been due to having his wind pipes almost crushed by a snake recently).

"I – I simply forgot they were hibernating when I put them in the fridge, John."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Reichenbach feels. Enjoy! (:

Sherlock is not allowed to:

1. conduct experiments involving body parts on the kitchen table

2. conduct experiments involving explosives in the flat

3. neglect his health by eating enough to sustain the life of a gnat

4. neglect his health by sleeping as much as the average vampire

5. leave John

6. die

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

_He isn't dead. He can't be. Believe in him._

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

To-Do List:

1. check fridge for contaminated food substances or parts of the human anatomy

2. check microwave for eyeballs or decapitated parts of the human anatomy

3. check all kitchenware for severed parts of the human anatomy

4. throw out any and all questionable substances found in kitchenware

5. buy milk and other edibles

6. force-feed Sherlock

7. write his eulogy

8. attend his funeral

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

_He can't be dead. He just can't be. Believe in him._

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Blog last updated _yesterday at 10:23pm_

He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

_He's not coming back. Stop deluding yourself._

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

John should:

1. get on with his life

2. quit moping like a widower

3. go back to work at the surgery

4. socialize with someone other than the skull and Mrs Hudson

5. forget Sher –

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

_No. Anything but that. Anything but forget. I'll never forget him._

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Messages (unsent):

6 months ago: _Stop pretending. –JW_

4 months ago: _This isn't funny. –JW_

3 months ago: _Come back, dammit. –JW_

2 months ago: _Just please don't be dead. –JW_

2 weeks ago: _You insufferable twat. –JW_

4 days ago: _Don't do this anymore. –JW_

Messages (sent):

1 minute ago: _Come home, Sherlock. Please –JW_

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Messages (received):

30 seconds ago: _Yes. –SH_

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

John stumbled up the stairs to his – _their_ – flat dazedly, and wasn't exactly surprised to see a familiar figure draped carelessly over the sofa.

Sherlock actually sat up to acknowledge his presence, something he never would have done before he died. "Go on, then," he sighed, rolling his eyes slightly, "You know you want to do it."

John did. Very much so.

The punch knocked Sherlock back against the cushions, a huff escaping him as he sprawled backwards. John had a mean right hook.

He sat up, wincing slightly.

"Sorry," John said unapologetically, "it's –"

"I know, I know," Sherlock waved him off impatiently, "it's usually _subtext_."

And then he smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

There were few things in life John Watson craved more than routine, and it still managed to surprise him how easily he had fallen back into old habits.

So it was with ill-concealed amusement that Sherlock found yet another of John's signature lists tacked to the bulletin board in the kitchen that had been bereft for far too long.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Things Sherlock should do should he wish to avoid death by John's Sig Sauer P226R:

1. Never fake his death again

2. Never do anything life-threatening without John's supervision

3. Never do anything life-threatening with John's supervision

4. Never do anything life-threatening

5. Never do anything. Period.

6. Never conduct experiments pertaining to John's sex life again

7. Never conduct sex-related experiments. Period.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

What was different this time around, though, was that John started finding PostIt notes stuck next to his lists, written in an elegant scrawl that also managed to look illegible at the same time, instead of Sherlock's usual feigned ignorance.

And somehow that made everything even better, and righted John's recently-thrown-off-axis world more with each pithy comment he received in response to his lists.

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

_Don't be obtuse, John. I can't not do anything. Even the mere act of not doing anything means I am doing something, so your logic is flawed. _

_The correct way of going about it would be saying 'never do anything likely to give John an aneurysm' or some such similar melodrama you are no doubt prone to using._

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Things not to be said upon revealing to people you are alive:

- Dying was so boring I decided to come back and haunt you

- I faked my death, obviously, now shut up and get out

- You're all idiots for not seeing my death was faked

- Stop your imbecilic gaping and get me every case file you have that I missed

- Did the Metropolitan Police stop functioning when I died or are you all just invariably stupid?

- Shouldn't you be happier to see me? I did just return from the dead and solve a triple homicide for you

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

_How was I to know Donovan would do something so utterly dramatic and plebeian as to faint? Did you manage to film her on your phone? If so, send me the file._

_That wasn't what I said. I think it went closer to the lines of, 'You're all even more idiotic than I originally thought for not seeing how obviously faked my death was'._

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Things Sherlock should do to pay John back for the months of depression following his supposed death:

1. Cater to John's every whim for a duration of six months

2. Keep experiments off the kitchen table for five months

3. Clean, tidy and organize the flat for four months

4. Ensure fridge is stocked with edibles for three months

5. Watch crap telly with John on weekends for two months

6. Be nicer to people than usual for one month

7. Eat at least three portions of food per day for two weeks

8. Stock up on milk for an indefinable amount of time

9. Make John tea for an indefinable amount of time

10. Not die on cases for the rest of his life

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

_That is ridiculous, John. How do you expect me to sit through weekends of that abominable excuse for entertainment with you for two whole months? I thought you cared for my state of mental well-being. Not subjecting me to the horrors of crap telly would go into that category._

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

Things Sherlock should not do when watching crap telly:

1. Throw remote at telly

2. Throw remote at John

3. Throw remote at furniture

4. Dismantle remote

5. Dismantle telly

6. Deduce movie plots

7. Correctly deduce movie plots

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

_That plot was fairly obvious, in my opinion, even a moronic amateur like Anderson should have been able to predict the killer was the wife's sister. I suggest you opt for films that are even slightly intellectually challenging, if not to alleviate my suffering, then for the sake of the poor telly. _

_I don't want it impaired by a remote through its screen anymore than you do._

o.0.o.0.o.0.o.

John Watson had long ago decided that true happiness was hard enough to come by for the average person with an average amount of luck. For a person with his luck, it was extremely difficult to achieve the level of elation he was now experiencing on an almost daily basis.

But then, he reflected, not everyone woke to snarky banter in the form of brightly coloured PostIts pinned to their bulletin boards, with a steaming mug of tea set out for them every single morning.

A/N: Your reviews would help like nicotine patches do. I also need an idea for the next chapter, so feel free to give me any topic to work on (:


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